#run away to you fic

[fettuccin-e]

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues. 

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight. 

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales. 

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink. 

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. 

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this. 

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you. 

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle. 

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer. 

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need. 

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing. 

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are. 

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does. 

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper. 

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes. 

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow. 

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful. 

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

#*runs away again for another month* #Frankie the man that you are #always here to pull me out of a writing slump #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x fem!reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

[snailsnaps]

reminder: don't inject work-in-progress serums into your bloodstream or your body may de-age several years

EDIT: POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTER!

#Donnie run #would you guys read this if i had a fic written?? 🥺🥺 #i might have gotten carried away with coloring. don't care tho #AlphaStage Rise #i missed coloring like this #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #raphael #donatello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #illustration #comic

[blushweddinggowns]

Part 2

He has no right to be here.

He knows that.

He does.

Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.

If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.

So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.

He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.

He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.

And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?

Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.

So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.

He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.

Steve's getting married.

Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.

He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?

But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.

Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.

Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.

And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.

He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.

But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.

He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.

His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.

Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.

Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.

I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.

But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.

"Run away with me."

If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"

"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.

He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.

Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."

But he is.

Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.

He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."

He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.

He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."

"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."

Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."

But he can't, "I love you."

Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."

Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."

He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.

But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."

"W-what?"

"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."

Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.

I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.

Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."

It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."

But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.

It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.

Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.

They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.

Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.

Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."

Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.

Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."

There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.

And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.

#steddie fic #steddie #steddie ficlet #look at me writing this instead of steddie wip i havent looked at for two weeks #idk where this came from #eddie munson #steve harrington #i do not condone this behavior but god damn is it romantic #if it helps it was a pretty shammy marriage to appease his family but that poor nonexistent bride is in for a bad time #but hey it's better than him cheating on you after you're married right? #wedding #ruined #whoops #its a bad idea to run away with your ex you havent seen in years but damn they did it anyway #angst is in there #breakup #they get back together in a very dramatic fashion

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This one is dedicated to @shirokokuro, who made a lifeguard AU fic to fill the void where there was none.

Read it here! It's great: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51598429

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #modern au #mdzs au #nie mingjue #lan xichen #lan wangij #wei wuxian #I am still so flabbergasted. And boy it is such a treat of a fic. Thank you for making my dream come true. 5k+ is WILD!!! #You made me laugh so many times! The jokes were on point! #I have *not* been able to stop thinking about: #"Lan Zhan has half a mind to march over and explain aquatic safety to them. #(“Wow you're so familiar with the pool rules“ the lifeguard would swoon. ”Let's run away together!“)” #The truly unhinged Lan Pining was very well done! #LWJ suffers emotionally but in only the most teenji way he possibly could. #Also I'm such a nerd - I love the fact you put links in for reference. Genuinely felt giddy each time #I will make people read this fic with every power bestowed upon me

[sugarcoated-lame]

Wake Up Call

Joel Miller x Female Reader

pre-outbreak Joel x reader

All of my works are 18+ minors dni!

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Joel knows you’re not a morning person, so he often loves to help you wake up in way that you’ll both enjoy.

or

slow, sleepy morning smut with Joel :)

WC: 3200

Warnings: i’m terrible at titles and summaries i know, this is basically just smut (18+), established relationship, fluff, cuddly joel, smut, somnophilia (kinda?), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, biting ? (joel bites reader’s shoulder once), a hint of overstimulation, use of a few pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby), no use of y/n or description of reader’s physical appearance, moodboard is not indicative of reader’s appearance, joel’s morning voice and joel saying “good girl” in said morning voice deserve a warning. let me know if there’s any I missed! x

a/n: this was my first time writing an actual fic for Joel, so please be nice <3 this was based on some thots that I wrote for an ask that my beloved @sebsxphia sent me 🧡 this was so self-indulgent and I had such a fun time writing it and making the moodboard, I hope y’all enjoy reading!! happy reading, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 🧡

Joel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

•

•

It’s a Monday morning like any other. The sun is still rising in the sky, languidly illuminating the world in its hazy golden glow, and you find yourself waking up the same way you do most mornings as of late.

Eyes slowly blinking open to the steadily brightening light that’s begun to make its way through the too-sheer curtains that cover Joel’s bedroom window, a broad chest pressed to your back, and soft breaths blown into the crook of your neck and moving a few strands of your hair along with them.

A strong arm is wrapped around your middle; one big palm splayed across the skin of your belly beneath your—his— t-shirt while the other rests underneath your pillow.

You’re growing used to waking up to Joel’s warmth radiating through you with all the nights you spend in his bed these days, his legs entangled with yours beneath the blankets that had been kicked further down the bed in the night, the extra warmth not needed when you’re completely encapsulated by the furnace that is Joel.

It’s still early as the two of you begin to stir, a while yet before either one of your alarms are set to go off and pull you from the comfort of each other’s embrace and Joel’s plush bed, and into readying yourselves for the upcoming workday.

 The arm around your waist tightens as you slowly begin to wake. Joel burrows further into the crook of your neck, scruffy beard tickling at the skin of your shoulder where his shirt has fallen loose in your sleep, the action one that’s grown to be of great comfort for you.  

Joel’s always been an early riser. All the nights spent together over the months that you’ve been together now, he’s always woken up before you.

He has an alarm clock, but you never understand why he bothers to set it in the first place. His internal clock is always waking him up naturally as the sun comes up, and approximately thirty minutes before Sarah wakes up for school.

Not that you’re complaining, though, because you’ve come to appreciate the slow and natural way you wake up with Joel.

His flurry of kisses to any patch of bare skin he can find, and the warmth of his broad chest pressed against your back always wake you up gently. It’s a routine you’ve come to love, miles better than any loud alarm.

Though Joel can never seem to sleep later than the sun, he loves it because it means he gets to spend a few extra moments just admiring your peacefully sleeping form.

He knows you’re not a morning person, that you love your sleep and hate nothing more than to be woken up by the shrill ringing on an alarm.

So, another benefit of Joel waking up before you is that he gets to wake you up slowly, gently, snuggling into you and littering your skin with kisses that he knows will bring about that sleepy smile that he loves so much as you begin to stir.

Joel’s morning voice is gruff and somehow even deeper than it already is normally as he turns to nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing a feather soft kiss to the skin just below your ear.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”

In your still half-asleep state, you just barely grace him with a sleepy hum of acknowledgement before pressing your body back against his, cuddling further into his warmth and beginning to drift off again, not quite ready to wake up yet.

Since Joel knows that getting up early is not even close to your favorite thing to do, he often loves to wake you in a way that he knows you’ll both enjoy.

So, it’s no surprise to you when you begin to be pulled further from your slumber by the feeling of his arms retreating from around you, the loss of the comforting heat of his body against yours causing the tiniest of whimpers to escape your lips.

Joel smirks—though he knows you can’t see it through your still-closed eyes—those strong arms turning you onto your back before his body is sliding further down the bed.

Before you know it, gentle kisses are being pressed to your knees, leading a trail up to your inner thighs, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching lightly against your skin as he makes his way up towards where your panty-covered core has already begun to flutter in anticipation.

Calloused palms reach under your thighs and they’re no sooner being parted by the width of Joel’s broad shoulders, his plush lips pecking along the skin where your thigh meets your hip. Languidly making their way up to your hip bones, dotting a sweet kiss to both before descending.

Nosing along the cotton of your underwear, Joel sends a shudder through your entire body when he brushes over the damp spot that’s begun to darken the fabric.

Taking in your heady scent with a groan, his lips press a single kiss there before the warmth of his tongue laves against your seam through the thin fabric and pulls another sleepy whine from your parted lips.

Joel’s rough fingers dip under the waistband as he reaches up to pull them down your thighs, letting out a low groan as he slowly reveals your core, all pretty and glistening just for him.

You’re still not fully awake when he licks into you. His tongue white hot as it licks a broad stripe up to your clit, mixed with the pleasant burn of his facial hair scraping against the soft skin of your inner thighs, has your hips bucking against his mouth and quiet whimpers leaving your lips even in your still-sleepy state. Joel can’t help but growl at the taste of you.

His strong arms wrap around your thighs to hold you in place, to keep you open wide for him as he fucks you with his tongue, and it’s only when he sucks your sensitive bundle of nerves between those plush lips that you fully awaken on a broken cry.

With your eyes squeezed shut now from pleasure, one of your hands reaches down blindly into his soft, sleep-mussed curls as his tongue swirls around your clit in firm, tight circles.

You’re already getting close to reaching your high when your eyes finally open and you peer down to see Joel.

The bottom half of his face is slightly obscured under the covers as he makes his way back down to your entrance—the tip of his nose brushing against your clit and rendering you dizzy while his tongue laps up the gush of arousal there, and those deep, chocolate eyes boring into your sleep-hazy ones as one hand leaves your thigh so that one of his thick fingers can join his tongue.

Joel turns to press a kiss to your inner thigh, and you can feel his slight smirk against your skin along with the tickle of his beard as he murmurs a quiet “Mornin’, baby.”

The deep, raspy drawl of his morning voice has you clenching down around his finger as it pushes into you, pulling a breathy whine from you as your own fingers tighten their hold in his hair, and you’re barely able to get out a shaky good morning back to him.

In the tranquil, early morning quiet of Joel’s bedroom, you both can hear just how wet you are for him. The deep groan he lets out mixes with your breathless cries as you both listen to the squelch of his digit sliding in and out of you.

“Ya hear that?” Joel’s lips press again to your inner thigh. “So wet for me, darlin’. Were you dreaming of me?”

It’s all you can do in your hazy state to let out a hum of agreement and nod, not trusting your voice as his words and his thick finger pull you closer to that edge.

Joel’s cheek still rests along the smooth skin of your thigh as he turns his gaze upward to watch your face while his finger continues its ministrations. He nearly growls at the sight—your head thrown back and hair spread messily across his pillows. Brows furrowed and eyes clenched shut in pleasure, your perfect lips parted and letting out the prettiest sounds as he works you over.

“Joel— fuck.” You can’t help the desperate moan that escapes your parted lips as Joel adds in a second finger and crooks them just right. Turning your face into the pillows to quiet the sound—his daughter is still sleeping right down the hall, after all—your hips buck toward him of their own volition and push his fingers even deeper as they prod against that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Doing so good for me, baby.’ Joel praises with one last peck to your thigh, before he turns his head to press a lingering kiss to your swollen clit that sends a jolt up your spine.  

Then, he’s trailing back down toward your entrance, drawing another gasp from you as the tip of his nose just barely grazes your clit. You can’t help but whine at the loss of his fingers as Joel pulls them from your core, your walls clenching around nothing for only a moment before the warmth of his tongue takes their place.

Joel laps up some of your wetness with a groan that sends shockwaves through your core before his tongue presses back into you. The warm, wet muscle glides through your walls, in and out, and you find yourself whimpering in frustration at the feeling—oh so good, but not quite full enough.

It’s enough to have your hands relinquishing their hold on his locks and scrambling to pull him up the bed by his shoulders and begging him to fuck you.

“Joel, please. Need you now, baby!” Your voice sounds breathless and borderline frantic, and Joel can’t help but feel a little pride in just how worked up you get for him.

“Need—”

He cuts off your desperate pleas with a bruising kiss, pulling a needy sound from deep in your throat at the taste of yourself on his lips as they meet yours.

Joel parts from you to glance at the clock on his nightstand. He knows you’ve probably got about twenty minutes now before you each have to get ready for your respective days—before Sarah wakes up for school, and she’ll be knocking on his door to make sure that he’s up and ready to take her there before he heads to work.

Plenty of time to give you what you need.

Joel takes a moment to admire your features—pretty eyes still bleary from sleep, bottom lip swollen from his kiss and from being bitten between your teeth as you tried to keep your moans quiet. Chest heaving slightly in anticipation, nipples pebbled underneath the loose fabric of his t-shirt as you wait for him to make the next move.

He leans in to give you one more lingering kiss, his tongue parting your lips and meeting yours in a languid swirl that leaves you feeling dizzy when he pulls away.

Joel shifts back onto his knees, and you have half a mind to protest him being so far from you before his hands are meeting your hips.

“Turn over, baby.” He instructs you softly, those strong hands moving you with a surprising gentleness as he guides you to lay on your stomach.

You lie with your cheek pressed to the pillow, fingers digging into the sheets underneath it, your body tingling with anticipation as you wait for him to touch you.

Joel hastily removes his boxers, biting back a deep groan as he gives his already-throbbing length that’s been neglected until now a few firm strokes, spreading the precum that’s pearling at the tip as he watches your thighs clench with need.

You feel the calloused palms of his hands begin to trail the back of your thighs, and up slowly over your ass, fingers pushing up the hem of his much too-big t-shirt that you wore to bed along with them and making you shiver as they expose the smooth planes of your back.

Joel’s hands slide back down to part your thighs and make room for him, lifting your hips just slightly, and then he’s positioning himself over you.

With his broad chest pressed to your back once again and your spread thighs bracketing his, he reaches down to run his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick and pulling sharp gasps from you both as his tip bumps against your clit, before he notches himself against your entrance.

His body is a comforting weight against your back, the both of you letting out simultaneous sounds of pleasure and relief as Joel pushes into you slowly. His face rests in the crook of your neck and he groans at the way your tight, wet walls envelope him just right, the muscles already clenching around him as he waits to move.

Hips pressed to your ass while he gives you a moment to adjust to his length, Joel revels in the way you whine at the fullness of him. It’s always a stretch to accommodate his size, but you always take him so well.

“Mm—move, Joel. Please, baby.”

Your words and your hips attempting to buck back against him under his weight are enough for Joel to start moving, arms bracing beside you as he pulls his own hips back, slamming back into you in one quick thrust.

“Fuck!” You bury your face in the pillows to muffle your moans as Joel begins a steady pace.

All of your senses are completely surrounded by him—his scent on the silky fabric of his pillowcase, the hairs of his beard scratching at the column of your neck as he quietly grunts and moans into your ear, the weight of his strong body pressing you into the sheets as his cock fills you up and quickly pulls you back toward the edge of that cliff, more than ready to fall off.

Joel’s lips begin a trail of kisses all along your neck and up to your ear so he can whisper directly into it, that deep drawl of his eliciting a downright sinful mewl from your lips.

“So good for me, sweetheart. Always feel so good.”

His praise has your walls clamping down around him tighter as Joel fucks you slow and deep into the mattress. Both his words and his hips stuttering as he drives into you, bringing you both closer and closer to your highs every time his length prods against that spot inside you that makes you feel like you’re going to come undone.

“So, fuck—fuckin’ tight.” Joel groans as he buries his nose in your hair.

One of his large hands reaches out to cover one of your own that’s still tightly gripping the sheets, the other snaking its way beneath your body to find your clit and you shudder underneath him as the speed of his thrusts begins to quicken.

Face still buried in the pillows, your desperate cries of Joel’s name are muffled as he works you closer to the edge. The feeling of his cock dragging through your slick walls and filling you oh so deep, and the rough pads of his fingers circling your clit, leave your mind feeling hazy—and not because you’re still sleepy.

Joel can tell that you’re close from the way that your moans have shifted into breathless, broken cries, your cunt clamping down around his cock in a vice-like grip that’s driving him to the brink right along with you.

“Such a good girl for me,” He pauses to press a gentle kiss just behind your ear before he continues. “Need ya to come, baby.”

Joel’s words of encouragement, along with his deft fingers speeding up in their assault on your clit, have you falling over the edge with a sob of his name.

“Good girl.” He mutters close to your ear as his hips continue to piston against your backside, fingers still rubbing your clit and leaving you a writhing mess underneath him.

Your loud cries are softened as you bite down on the pillow below you when the pleasure borders on overstimulation. You feel so full as Joel continues to fuck you nice and deep, working you through your orgasm as he begins chasing his own.

With your release soaking his cock, and the velvety walls of your cunt practically strangling his length, his hips begin to falter in their rhythm and it’s only a few more thrusts before Joel reaches his peak.

Pressing impossibly deeper into you, he leans in to bite down on your shoulder through the fabric of your t-shirt to muffle his moans as he coats your spasming walls with his cum.

Joel’s deep, throaty moans mix with your softer sighs as his hips gradually come to a stop, still buried deep inside you as his fingers leave your oversensitive bundle of nerves, hand now retreating from beneath you as he lets his weight slump against you for just a moment.

With a few more kisses to the side of your head, Joel makes his way back down to your neck, and then to your shoulder where his lips press tenderly to where he knows is probably now a bite mark under your shirt, before he slowly pulls out of you.

The weight of him leaves you as he moves back onto his knees on the mattress, taking a moment to admire the mess of you both between your legs.

Joel then reaches for the box of tissues on his nightstand, grabbing a few to clean up the mix of your releases that’s begun to leak out of your core, tossing them into the trash can beside his bed and moving to turn you onto your back.

Body pliant and sated, and practically melting into the mattress, Joel can’t help but chuckle at you as leans down to meet your lips in a kiss so sweet it has you sighing against him.  

It’s only a few moments after you’ve finished, after he lays back down on the bed and pulls you onto his bare chest, that the alarm goes off with the shrill signal that it’s time to start the day.

With a groan, you look up from your spot lying against Joel’s chest to see him already gazing down at you, a small smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he reaches a hand up to run through your hair.

“Guess it’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, your head flops back down onto his pec with another huff of disagreement and the two of you share a breathless laugh before Joel moves to shut off the alarm.

And, though you won’t admit it, you definitely wouldn’t mind an early wake-up call if you got to wake up like this every morning.

•

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Aaaaah thank you for reading!! Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed! x

tagging everyone who reblogged the original post that this was based on 🧡 : @seitmai @givemeth @lumoverheaven @fangirlbang @onceupona-happilyeverafterlove @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @twoheartscanyon @sunblchdfly @caffeinated-idiot @fandomimagines2023

and a few others moots who i think may be interested 🫶🏼 : @softiedingo @joelsgreys @gasolinerainbowreads @thepascalofus @ilovepedro

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal characters #pre-outbreak joel #pre outbreak!joel #pre outbreak Joel #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #my writing #posting this and running away #bye !

[supernovafics]

hiiii i just read your entire i’ll be there for you universe and I’M OBSESSED❤️❤️ Friends to lovers is my favourite trope ever and I love how you wrote a cute slow burn without characters being toxic and mean towards each other bc that happens a lot!

I was wondering how would their parents react to them being together?? And when do they decide to tell their parents, and how it goes down? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it but I thought it might be cute!🌸🌸

𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff, implied smut, very slight parent drama

summary: in which your parents finally find out that you and steve are dating 

author's note: thanks for the request! (also for @hippiefairy02 since you requested basically the same thing like a week ago lol). i didn’t really know how to end this one so it kinda just ends lol<3 enjoy though<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

The movie became long forgotten after only the first twenty minutes, which was somewhat of a routine at this point. It was a good thing that you both had seen this one already. 

If you were to look back at who started everything this time around you’d toss the blame onto Steve for initiating the first kiss, but he’d put the blame on you for settling yourself close into his side and giving him a “certain look.”

You were far from thinking about who started what, though, because all you could focus on was the feel of Steve settled on top of you and his mouth against yours. 

Your hands started traveling underneath his plain white t-shirt and one of his took hold of your hip, teasingly slipping a finger or two beneath the waistband of your small pajama shorts. Your legs were tangled with his in a way that was a bit awkward because the couch was way too small to do anything completely comfortably, but you two were okay with making it work for the time being. 

You maneuvered a bit, attempting to push up so that your head could find the pillow that was leaning against the arm of the couch, and the abrupt movement made your forehead bump his.

It didn’t even hurt, but Steve still pulled back and looked at you concerned. “You okay?”

You nodded as you tilted your head up a bit to press a quick kiss against his nose. “I’m fine. You okay?”

“‘M good.” He nodded too and then slotted his lips against yours again.  

You were pulling away after only a second. “Wait, let’s switch. I feel like I’m gonna accidentally knee you or something.”

“Or we can just go to one of our rooms,” He suggested as his lips found your neck, which immediately made your eyes slip shut and you had to bite your lip to hold back the contented sigh that you wanted to let out. 

You almost said yes to Steve’s words, it would’ve been so easy to say yes, but you were trying to keep your thinking somewhat rational, so you shook your head instead. “If we do that, we’re not gonna come out for the rest of the night. And we said that we’d at least try to study for the test we have on Thursday once the movie’s over.”

“The movie we’re not watching,” He mumbled against your neck. 

“Still counts,” You said, lightly pushing him away, and he conceded as you shifted things around so that you were on top of him, settled nicely in his lap with your legs on either side of him. “See? Much better.” 

Before he could potentially say anything in response, you pushed a hand through his hair and leaned down to kiss him. His fingers started teasingly playing with the hem of your t-shirt before simply finding a home on your hips and squeezing you there. 

It was almost too obvious what should’ve happened next and both of you could feel the energy shifting into something a bit more heated, more needy. You would’ve lifted from his lap for a second so that he could slide down his sweatpants and boxers, and then you’d simply pull your underwear and shorts to the side because it would’ve been too much work to fully shimmy out of them. 

But then the phone started ringing in the kitchen and everything that felt like it was right on the verge of happening was pushed out of the window.  

You detached your mouth from Steve’s and sat up. “I’ll get it.”

He let out a groan, head falling back against the throw pillow and hands still on your hips. “Don’t.”

“We have six needy kids and a Robin, I think we have to answer it.”  

“Sadly, that makes sense,” His grip on you loosened and you finally maneuvered off of him after pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. 

You went to the kitchen, where the phone was, and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi,” It was easy to decipher your mom’s voice on the other end of the line. “What are you doing Saturday?”

It wasn’t surprising to you that your mom completely skipped past any sort of small talk; the “How are you’s” and “How’ve you been’s.” She always got straight to the point. 

“Me and Steve are gonna be out of town this weekend,” You answered. “I planned this whole date thing and we leave Friday night.” 

It was completely accidental; so accidental that at first, you didn’t even register what you had just told her.

“You and Steve are what?” 

“We’re gonna be in Chicago this weekend for—” You stopped abruptly, finally realizing what you said before. “Oh. Oh, yeah, um, we’re dating.” 

Her gasp was immediate. “Oh my God.”

You couldn’t decipher what that reaction was. She sounded surprised, definitely, but you couldn’t tell if it was a happy kind of surprise or upset.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months.” You shut your eyes then, bracing yourself for what you knew was about to be nothing short of an interrogation.

“What? Why haven’t you told us sooner?”

In all honesty, it wasn’t like either you or Steve were planning on keeping it from your parents forever, it had just never come up in the handful of conversations you’d had with them over the last few months. 

“It’s just, I don’t know. It hadn’t come up yet,” You ultimately answered. “And plus, you never really cared that much about my other relationships.”

“Sure, but Steve’s completely different. This is great!” She told you, and you inwardly sighed in relief that she was happy about the news; even though you were certain that you wouldn’t have cared about having her “approval” either way. “Does Christine know?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna call her right now,” Your mom told you, and you were actually perfectly okay with her ending the call with you right then to go call Steve’s mom instead. “Oh, this is so great!”

She was hanging up before you could say anything else and you were sighing as you placed the phone back on the hook.

“I’m sorry,” You told Steve as you joined him back on the couch. 

He looked at you, confused. “What happened?”

“I accidentally just told my mom that we’re dating, and now she’s calling your mom to tell her too.”  

“Oh, okay, that’s not that bad,” He shrugged. “I guess it had to happen eventually.”

“Yes, but I was kinda hoping that that day would be years from now. Like, when we sent out wedding invitations or something.” 

In your head, telling your friends about you and Steve was one thing, but telling your parents was something entirely different. Your friends were heavily involved in your life, and you knew that you couldn’t keep it from them forever because of that; and then it eventually just felt right to finally be honest about it, anyway. 

Telling your parents, on the other hand, was the farthest thing from your mind. 

“They would probably kill us if we did that. Especially our moms because you know that they’re gonna wanna be involved in the whole thing,” Steve told you, and you knew he was right. 

There were some few and far in-between moments where your parents would switch and pretend to be real parents that were actually involved in their kid’s life. Usually, it only happened during the holidays; Christmases spent pretending that you were a happy and normal family or Thanksgivings that were used to prove the same thing. In a way, it made sense for this news to warrant that same kind of treatment.

You groaned as you leaned further into Steve. “I hate that you’re right.”

Your mom was calling back barely twenty minutes later, right as the two of you were in the middle picking up where you had left off before the first call. Steve answered that time, pulling his sweatpants back up and heading over to the kitchen, and you slipped your shirt back over your head.

“Oh, um, yeah, that’s fine. That night is good,” You heard him say. “We’ll be there.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at whatever he was agreeing to right then.  

He hung up a few moments later and gave you an apologetic look. “Okay, now I’m the one that needs to say sorry.”

“What happened?”

“It was your mom,” Steve started as he sat next to you again. “She said she talked to my mom and they’re both really happy about us dating. And they decided that they wanna have a “celebratory dinner” kind of thing with us.”

“No.”

Steve nodded. “It’s gonna be at your parent’s house on Thursday since she knows that we’re going to Chicago for the weekend. I couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot, so I was just agreeing.”

“Oh, God. I feel like this is gonna be like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“Hopefully the dessert is better this time around,” He said, attempting to lighten the mood, and you let out a laugh. 

“If not, then we will definitely be ending the night at Third Street,” You told him and he nodded in agreement before pulling you into his lap. 

“Can we please go to my room?” He asked, arms circling around you. “I feel like the couch is cursed.”

You smiled, lips finding his for a brief second. “Okay, yes, I’ll allow it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This night didn’t feel anything like the Thanksgiving dinner that you and Steve had been forced to have all those months ago; at least, not at first. During that night, your parents had gone on and on about their ski trip that was coming up and there were barely any moments where the conversation was focused on you and Steve. 

Now things were different because all they cared about was talking about you two, which did make sense given the reasoning for the dinner. But still, you knew your parents, and this amount of excited fanfare surrounding the two of you felt entirely unexpected. 

Your dad was jokingly giving his “stamp of approval” for the relationship, and Steve’s dad was saying something about how you’d always been a good influence on Steve. And then your moms went on tangent after tangent going down memory lane and telling stories about you and Steve as kids. 

“I’d been hoping this would happen ever since the cruise,” Christine said, a happy smile on her face. “You two were practically attached at the hip the entire time, and that still hasn’t changed.” 

“Yes, you guys were always so cute together. Oh, and remember when you took each other to your proms? I think I still have the pictures somewhere,” Your mom said, smiling happily as well, and you honestly wouldn’t have even minded if she brought out the pictures. 

Eventually, though, things shifted, and toward the end of dinner, the conversation moved away from you and Steve. Instead, your parents started reminiscing about old moments from their collective friendship that didn’t involve you and Steve at all. This made sense to you; you knew that it could only be a matter of time before they finally started talking about themselves.   

With the topic of you and Steve long forgotten, you two slipped away from the table, no one noticing or stopping you, and retreated to your old bedroom that was just down the hall. 

You sat at the foot of your old bed and watched as Steve simply walked around, taking a look at the things that you had decided to leave behind and not bring along to the apartment. 

You kicked your shoes off and crossed your legs under you. “Tonight actually hasn’t been completely unbearable.” 

“Yeah, weirdly, it hasn’t,” Steve agreed as he walked over to you and leaned down to press a kiss against the top of your head. “There’s no dessert though, so we’ll have to go to Third Street.”

“Do you think they’d notice if we slipped out of my window right now?” 

He laughed a bit. “Fifty-fifty shot.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind taking those odds,” You said, smiling up at him. 

“I would say okay, but I think I have to be the reasonable one here and say that we should just walk out the front door like normal people.”

His words only made you smile wider because usually, it was you who would say the logical thing to do in situations.

“We’ve swapped roles tonight,” You said as you stood up and put your shoes back on. “I think you do a great job as the reasonable one.” 

“I don’t like it. You can have that job back after tonight,” He told you, smiling as his hand found yours.

You only nodded as you and he headed out of your bedroom. Your parents were still at the dining table, laughing about something that you didn’t hear. 

“Hey, we’re gonna head out. We have to wake up early tomorrow, so yeah,” You said, pulling their attention onto you and Steve. It was a lie, but it felt like it would be a plausible enough excuse. “Thanks for tonight.” 

“Yeah, it was great,” Steve agreed with a quick nod. 

A slew of “Goodnight’s” and “Drive safe’s” came from your parents, which you two nodded and smiled at before exiting your house. 

You let out a sigh of relief once you were sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. 

The night hadn’t been horrible, you’d experienced much worse dinners with your parents. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t glad that this one was over. 

“So, are we gonna be basic tonight and do milkshakes, or have whatever pie Mary made for the night?” You asked as you played with the radio and then left it on a station that you’d probably end up changing in a minute or two. 

Steve took a quick glance at you and smiled. “If she made apple, then I think the answer is obvious.”

“Very true,” You nodded and smiled back at him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things series #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #posting this and running away for the rest of the night🫡 #see yall in the morning🫶🏾

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool

written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: 'fool' | wc: 454 | rated: T | cw: hurt/no comfort, break-up

~~~

“Stevie, baby, please answer the door,” Eddie begs just as the front door bursts open to reveal Robin Buckely in all her righteous fury.

“You need to leave,” she says, and god, he’s never heard her sound so cold before.

“No Robin, please, you don’t understand. I’ve been a complete f-”

“Fucking asshole?” Robin spits.

“Well,” Eddie sheepishly replies, “I was going to say fool, but, yeah.”

“Fool is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think? It’s been almost a year, and you just show up?" Her hands are white-knuckled and shaking, like she’s physically restraining herself from attacking him. Eddie’s pretty sure he'd deserve it. "How did you even find our new place?”

Up and coming rockstar money certainly has its perks, so he hired a PI.

“I asked Dustin,” he lies.

“No,” Robin cuts him off, “no you didn’t. The kids would never betray his trust.”

Not like you did rings unspoken. 

Months worth of tears finally spill over, a small sob wrenching his body forward. He harshly rubs his face in an attempt to ground himself. Gathering his breath, he looks up again to find Robin glaring, hard and unyielding.

“Robin please,” he sobs, leaning to glance around her, desperate to catch a glimpse of the boy he left behind. “I just want to talk to him. I need to tell him how sorry I am. I regret everything. All of it. I never should’ve said what I said or did what I did.”

“Oh!” she rages. “Do you mean when you celebrated your first big show by ditching Steve and hooking up with some rando in the bathroom?”

She’s yelling now, stepping out onto the front stoop to crowd his space. People are starting to gather on the sidewalk, among them a group of girls with their phones out, recording everything. 

This could ruin him. His reputation, future gigs, possibly the band as a whole. 

He doesn’t care. It’s his reckoning.

“Or, was it after he moved out and you threw a massive drunken doxxing bitchfest on TikTok and said– how did it go again?”

Her voice drops to mock his own ”’a rockstar can’t be seen dating a normie, suburban, ex-high school jock who’s only bullshit dream is to raise kids. That’s just bad for business.’”

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he whispers.

“I don’t care,” Robin says, voice hard and resigned. “You cheated. You embarrassed him publicly. Then you left without a word. Now I need to you to get off my porch and kindly fuck off.” 

Robin steps backwards into the townhome, and just as she’s slamming the door in his face, Eddie swears he sees a flash of chestnut hair and wet hazel eyes.

#I'M SO SORRY *throws this at you and runs away* #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie prompt #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie microfic prompt: fool #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson whump #hurt steve harrington #platonic stobin #stobin #robin buckley #QueenieWritesStories #hurt/no comfort #steddie breakup #breakup fic #i have no intention to fix this

[non-un-topo]

Thinking about the sniper duo

#tog #the old guard #siggy draws #quynh #nicolo di genova #the old gays #genuinely they're all i can think about this week #what are they running from / shooting at?? idk they probably fucked up sdfghfds #the headcanon is: when you put these two together they have a lot of fun but they're a DISASTER. #here's a story: some rich man saw quynh and immediately decided she was going to be his wife #and ofc quynh had issues with this and wanted to smack the shit out of this guy right away. #which she did. which escalated into a duel of sorts. nicolo is just there on the side like 'oh shit'. #either quynh was in disguise or she was forced to wear the dress. either way she is Not happy about it. #cue little brother who can lift his own weight and sprint to the rescue #maybe i should make this into a fic omg #can you fucking tell i started this by listening to anime osts ended it with disney songs

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

So there's a 60s song. One of my favorites. I have several, but let's not focus on that. Its called Give Him A Great Big Kiss by The Shangri-Las, and everytime i hear it, it makes me think of steddie.

More so of Steve finding the song, probably in his mom's old record case. And he's always loved the song. But then he met Eddie. And it's meaning changed. His thoughts constantly drifting to Eddie when he hears it. And he starts singing it all goofy and love sick when he hears it now.

He and Robin work at a bar downtown, Eddie works at the mechanic shop around the corner. He comes in for early lunch a lot, and that's how they meet. They get along great. All of them do. Robin loves him to death. As far as she's concerned she gained another soulmate along side Steve. One who blabbers like her and they rant at each other constantly, Steve watching them fondly.

But he's also got it bad for Eddie. Obviously. And Robin knows this. Knows about the song. And the way Steve sings it all gooey and adoring and lost in thought.

After a few plays of the song she sings along with him, they duet they're hearts out when it comes on and the bar is empty. Usually right before they open. Both of them using mops, or bottles, or dishrags as microphones as they sing.

Eddie is pining too. He's got it so bad for Steve that he finds it hard to look at him sometimes. And Robin, drukenly one night, after Steve had fallen alseep in his chair beside the pool, had told Eddie to shoot his shot. That he'd sink it, or get a home run, or a touchdown, or some other sports term that neither of them really understood.

But everytime Eddie has tried to make a move, something comes up. They get interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Eddie had decided fate was against them and almost given up hope.

He'd had a plan today. Come to the bar for lunch before they opened, ask him, whether Robin was there or not. She'd been making it a point to not speak to them if it looked like they were talking about something important. Eddie knew it was pity for him. Was endlessly greatful.

But that was how he ended up at the bar. Ducking in the side entrance they left open for him. And he's about to burst in like normal, all loud enthusiasm to see his friends, but he hears Steve groaning about something, hears Robin laughing, hears his name, and it stops him, his hand pressed gently to the door.

"Uuugghhh my god. I'm useless. I was so good at this in school. I could ask anyone out. Like it was nothing." Steve grumbles, Eddie's stomach flutters, he pushed the door open, just a crack, can only see Robin where she's perched on the bar top, legs crossed.

"Maybe that's the problem." She shrugs, Eddie sees her drop her hand to the left, he bites his lip and carefully pushes the door a bit further. He has to stifle a laugh when he sees Steve, looking forlorn, head dropped onto the bar, Robin's hand petting at his hair absent-mindedly. He turns his head to look up at her and Eddie moves to the side a bit, hoping Steve doesn't notice him.

"Huh?" He huffs, glares up at her. She pats the side of his face a couple times and takes her hand back.

"You said you did it like it was nothing. Maybe this isn't nothing? With Eddie, I mean. Maybe it's... bigger. Better!" Her hands move in a flurry in front of her as she talks, Steve ducks away from them as he sits up on the stool properly.

"Better. ...elaborate?" He says slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, his face all screwed up the way Eddie loves, his concentration face, it would be Eddie's downfall one day.

Robin nods enthusiastically, plops her feet down onto the stool next to Steve.

"Well does it feel different? With Eddie? Than it did with all those other people?" She asks, looking down at him with an impossibly fond look.

Eddie watches Steve bite his lip, think for a long moment, his hand moves absent-mindedly to his stomach. Eddie mirrors him, his stomach fluttering as he watches. Feeling a bit guilty, but he can't look away. He can't move. He has to keep listening. Needs the courage, he tells himself. Steve nods.

"Yeah it does. It's different. He's different." Steve says, and he's got this dopey look on his face that Eddie's never seen. Robin nods, slides down off the bar, her butt replacing her feet as she holds Steve's knees tightly.

"Different then what? Then who?" Robin promtps, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Different then everyone." Steve breathes it like a prayer and then immediately shoves his face into his hands with a groan as Robin makes a high pitched noise in her throat.

"You know what this needs don't you?" She asks, excitement coursing through her now. She's on her feet before Steve answers, bouncing out of veiw, toward the jukebox in the corner. Steve groans again and turns to follower her.

"Alcohol?" He asks, voice dry. Eddie hears Robin snort.

"Maybe after work. But right now what we need, is.... drum roll please." She draws out the please. Eddie watches Steve sit on the stool, watching her. He gives her nothing.

"I said drum roll!!" She shouts, and Steve grins, tapping his hands on the stool between his legs.

"Theeeeeee Eddie song!" She sings, and Eddie faintly hears the click of the Jukebox before a womans voice fills the air. Music kicking in after the first few words, Steve already bobbing along. Eddie's heart stutters in his chest. He knows this song. Has heard Steve humming it a few times. It's not a bad song. Eddie's open to things.

He watches Robin dance back into view as Steve starts mouthing the words, pretending to fight against it. But all Eddie can hear are the lyrics, as Steve really starts to get into it, taking Robin's hand and letting her pull him off his seat.

"Thick wavy hair. A little too long. All day loooong, he's singin his song." Steve starts to sway, and Eddie can't do it, they're moving out of view and he needs to see this. He ducks through the door quietly and sinks back to the back corner silently, both of them lost in the song as they dance. Robin chiming in now.

"Well, what color are his eyes?" She asks Steve, perfectly in sync with the song, they've clearly done this... a lot. Steve shrugs and counters,

"I don't know. He's always wearing shades." He sighs wistfully.

"Is he tall?" Robin asks, climbing back onto the bar, laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air.

"Well, I've got to look up." Steve stays out on the dining floor, dancing between the tables, swaying his hips.

"Yeah? Well I hear he's bad." Robin scrunches her face as she sings.

"Hmm. He's good bad. But he's not evil." Steve furrow his brow, 'thinking'.

"Tell me more. Tell me more." Robin sings, kicking her feet to the beat, chin in her hands as she grins at Steve. He does a fancy twirl and falls into a chair, dreamy look on his face as he continues.

"Big bulky sweaters, to match his eyes. Dirty fingernails, oh boy what a prize." He swoons a little, his head resting on his chin for a moment before he spins up out of the chair again, dancing towards Robin as he sings through the chorus again.

Eddie's breathing is fast now, his palms sweating as he watches and listenes to Steve sing about kissing him in the street, and loving and caring for him. Wanting to always be there for him. Eddie doesn't miss how fond he looks.

He's looked fond this entire time. Fond and... something else. Eddie's not sure there's a word for it. But he thinks 'longing' might be close. He wipes his palms on his grease stained jeans and moves foward, slowly, not wanting to draw attention, but he can't stay put any longer. Robin chimes in again, rolling onto her back dramatically, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is he a good dancer?"

"What do you mean is a good dancer?" Steve laughs into the line and Eddie's stomach flutters, he could watch Steve like this forever.

"Well how does he dance?" Robin sings, sitting up and facing Steve as he closes in on the stool in front of her, places his hands on it and practically sighs the last line.

"Close. Very, very, close."

The music fades. Robin singing the last of the 'oohs' gently as it does, both her and Steve smiling at each other. Eddie takes this moment to bump into a chair, sending it screeching a few inches across the floor, both of them flailing as they turn to look at him.

"Oh my god!" Robin yells, her hands clamping over her mouth. Steve is frozen as she looks between him and Eddie. Eddie raises one hand from his thigh, wobbles his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uhh... hey." He says, brilliantly. Steve's face is getting redder and redder as he stands there, and Eddie can see him tensing. About to bolt.

So he does something he's never been very good at. For Steve. He finds his bravery and walks right up to Steve, plants himself in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders harder than he meant too, but Steve doesn't flinch.

"Hey." Eddie breathes, his thumbs soothing over Steve's collarbones.

"You already said that." Steve says flatly, he's still staring at Eddie. Eddie's pretty sure he hasn't blinked since he hit the chair.

"Right. Yeah. Lemme try somethin else then." Eddie breathes, ducks forward, presses his lips gently to Steve's, feels Steve gasp against his lips and then feels his hands clamp down on his hips, hard.

It's a small kiss. Just a press of lips really, warm, and sweet, and gentle. But when Eddie pulls back, they're both breathless. Eddie vaguely hears Robin make that happy high pitched noise again, and clapping. And then any sounds from her are drowned out by the next song that clicks on, You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Eddie loves this song.

"You wanna dance?" He asks, brushes his nose against Steve's cheek, laughs when Steve follows him, trying to catch his lips again.

"I dunno. Are you a good dancer?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie, though his eyes are shining and soft.

"What do you mean am I good dancer?" Eddie asks, feigning offense.

"Well... how do you dance?" Steve recites, sounding almost shy.

Eddie bites his lip, wraps his arm around Steve's waist, and pulls him tightly to his chest as he turns him further onto the dance floor, guiding them between tables with an out of character grace.

"Close. Very, very, close." Eddie breathes, his heart fluttering as Steve throws his head back and laughs, his arms circling Eddie's neck as they sway together, holding each other close as the music plays on.

#OKAY Y'ALL I AM SO STOKED ABOUT THIS FIC I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #I. GONNA POST IT AND THEN RUN AWAY AND MAYBE REPAINT MY NAILS AGAIN CUZ IM NERVOUS BUT EXCITED OKAY HERE WE GOOOOOO #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #my writing #mine #my fic

[nburkhardt]

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like you like that”

He doesn’t know what hurts more, this or the memories of ‘our love is bullshit, you’re bullshit’ in his ears as he ignores the burn of his eyes. Ignores the stares and the silence.

He faintly wonders if maybe this is a curse, if he’s destined to be alone and that everyone he’ll ever love just can’t love him back.

Maybe it really is him?

Before anything else is said, he leaves. He doesn’t hear the shouts, doesn’t hear the apologies or the waits. Can’t handle being there anymore.

His eyes are burning, his heart is gone and he’s done.

Hawkins is a curse, all it holds for him is hurt and pain. He needs to leave, needs to be away. Wants to leave, wants to be away.

He feels the hand of someone on his arm and he doesn’t remember stopping, blinks hard to see past the tears. It takes only a few minutes to find Robin standing there, also with tears in her eyes. Her mouth is moving but his ears aren’t working, still buzzing with “I don’t like you like that” and a faint “you’re bullshit” ringing along side it.

Shaking his head, shutting his eyes tight. He leans his head against her shoulder and shakes, cries and feels her pull him close. Holds him tight and he curls his arms around her, trying to stop the tears and sobs.

“Oh, Stevie, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m here, I know it hurts.”

He clutches her tight and he sobs. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. He could’ve sworn- he really thought- really thought this was it. This was it, he thought he had a chance. Really.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“It’ll be okay, I swear. You’ll find someone, someone who loves you just as much as you love them. And I love you so much, Stevie. You are everything to me and you deserve it”

He shakes his head, it’s not true. He did find someone and they tore his heart out and called it bullshit and stomped all over it. He found another and they picked his broken heart up and decided to toy with it before ripping it to shreds with a simple “I don’t like you like that” and it’s so, it’s so juvenile.

“Yeah, yeah it is. And you know what? Fuck him, fuck him and everything about it. You can do so much better, I swear. Okay? Do you hear me, Steve? Do you?”

That’s when it slams into him, he was speaking out loud in between sobs and Robin was speaking to him. He nods and thinks hard at what she said, “I can’t Robs, I can’t do this anymore” he whispers and maybe even whimpers a bit, “I- It hurts so fucking much, I can’t be here anymore”

She pulls away and cups his face, his vision is still blurry but he can see that her face is red with tears too, “then we leave, we’ll leave. Okay? We can go anywhere. We can- we can just say fuck Hawkins and find something new- something bright and colorful. Find somewhere, where you can shine”

He can’t help but choke on a laugh and a sob, tries to shake his head. Stopped only because Robin holds him still, “We- I can’t do that to you-“

“You aren’t, Steve. I’m doing this for you.” She smiles and pulls his head closer to place a kiss to his forehead, “All this town has given you is pain and heartbreak, I’m calling it. We’re leaving”

“Isn’t that just- just running away?”

She shakes her head and pulls him close into a hug, “Even if it is, you deserve to run. We’ll pack up all of our things, either say goodbye or don’t, but we’re leaving. I can’t stand around and watch you break again. I can’t let you stick around longing and hoping that maybe fucking Eddie Munson decides to change his mind. I will not let him break you again”

There’s nothing he can say to that, he just hides his face in her shoulder. Holding onto her to keep himself from falling even more apart, listening to her hum and sway him to help him calm down. To stop from breaking even further, she whispers and promises him that she’s here. She’s not going anywhere.

And he believes her. She is his soulmate but he’s still hurting. He doesn’t know when it will stop, if they leave tomorrow it’ll still be broken. He’ll still faintly hear the “I don’t like you like that” mixed in with “you’re bullshit” in the back of his head. Doesn’t know if when he’ll not hear those phrases, doesn’t know if he’ll ever get their faces out of his head when they said it out either.

It hurts and his heart is in shreds. Being held together by his soulmate and maybe with her it’ll be protected.

~~~~

I’m sorry 🥲

#not steddie but also not not steddie #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington fic #stranger things fic #platonic stobin #it’s alllll angst when it comes to steddie in this #Robin is the best person for Steve in this #I’m totally sorry for putting you through it with steve 🥲 #they aren’t running away they’re just going on adventures together #I made myself cry with this too so #nburkhardt writes #angst #but also some comfort? #bittersweet ending

[canisalbus]

I also followed for the silly dog boyfriend shenanigans and was genuinely shocked when Seperation didn't end with them running away to live in the Italian countryside together

.

#hah! sorry #I hope you weren't too put off #I tried to warn that it would be angsty #anonymous #answered #fic Separation #brb running away to live in the italian countryside

[acommonanomaly]

Curufin for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo shook his head, smiling softly as he approached Tyelkormo’s room. He himself was dressed and ready to depart, though he knew it would be some time before his younger brothers were wrangled into their best robes and made presentable.

Maitimo paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing up briefly at the colorful spider hovering above him on the carefully wrought filaments of its web. He was not overly fond of spiders himself, so he understood Makalaurë’s aversion, though he had to admit that it was a magnificent specimen.

Atar had described to Tyelkormo all he knew of the species, remarking on the artistry with which it wove its web, his voice carrying some of the same admiration he expressed when describing the creations of some of the Noldor’s most renowned craftsmen. His appreciation had infected Tyelkormo, who had loudly let it be known that he would not have anyone disturb his guest.

Maitimo pushed the door open and entered the room, and he was immediately struck by the difference in the quality of the air here.

Tyelkormo’s windows were always open, and smells both earthy and airy drifted in along with the singing of birds and the trilling of the insects outside.

His room was what Amil affectionately called an ‘organized mess.’ Tyelkormo seemed determined to bring the outdoors in, having scattered about neatly presented collections of minerals, gemstones, and other natural things that caught his fancy. Charts of pressed flowers and leaves adorned the walls, and scattered around a plant that had long since began to overflow its pot were life-like marble sculptures of forest creatures that Amil had made for him.

Maitimo ducked beneath a wooden bird that hung from the ceiling, its wings slowly flapping so that it bobbed up and down, and he moved deeper into the room. He stopped when a live bird let out a shrill twitter from the window sill and flapped its glossy black wings.

“Good morning,” Maitimo said politely to the bird. Let his brother not accuse him of being rude to his guests.

The bird cocked its head to the side as it watched him, a beady pale yellow eye unblinking.

“Nelyo?” Tyelkormo called out.

Maitimo walked to the bed and pulled back the gauzy netting that surrounded it. The little bells sewn into fabric chimed delicately, and Curufinwë sat back on his heels, his grey eyes going wide as though he had been caught misbehaving. 

In each hand he clutched the carved wooden figure of an animal, and there were several more scattered around him on the bed. Though he had reached the age where he proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he was no longer a baby, he did not mind at all when Tyelkormo coddled him and made him toys. Tyelkormo sat cross-legged next to him, whittling away at a chunk of wood that was beginning to take on the likeness of a bear. Wood shavings littered his lap and the bed, and Maitimo shook his head before tying back the netting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Amil won’t like you doing that on the bed.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Tyelkormo said curtly, though his gaze darted to the open door.

“Amil wants Curvo to have a bath, and you should be getting ready, too.”

“Turko doesn’t want to go to the celebration. Why must he go?” Curufinwë asked, giving Maitimo a guileless look that might very well have worked on Amil, or even Atar.

Maitimo turned to Tyelkormo. “Tyelkormo, what have you been telling him?”

“I was just talking.” Tyelkormo kept his eyes lowered, continuing to whittle at the chunk of wood. “And anyway, I don’t see why I should have to go.”

“Because we’re all going.”

“It’s a minor celebration. No one will miss me.”

Maitimo sighed. Tyelkormo had been invited to the house of Oromë and was eager to join the Vala for a hunt. Though the invitation did not stipulate that he should arrive by any certain time, his excitement over the prospect of spending time with the great hunter made him impatient. The celebration they were to attend seemed to be even more of a chore to him than it normally would be.

When Tyelkormo had expressed his desire to be left behind, though, their father had said that if the rest of them had to suffer through such a tedious gathering then so would Tyelkormo.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #curufin #feanorians #feanorianweek #feanorianweek 2024 #my art #my fic #what fades away #i'm glad i managed to finish this today #i'm all tapped out but glad i was able to participate this year #thank you for continuing to run feanorianweek #it makes me happy #i love these elves #feanorian for life

[thornsnvultures]

ooey gooey ♡

Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every morning, Bucky comes to your store for terrible coffee and maybe something a little sweet on the side.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, pining, lots of food talk, fingering, dirty talk, pet name (sugar), mild angst, Sam's a little shit but a great (accidental) wingman :3c

a/n: this was written for @buckysbirdie 's #BirthdayBashWritingChallenge 💖 and the prompts I picked were: "🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes 🪵 Moose Tracks: Lumberjack 🍮 “I have to leave.” 🍩 “Rock paper scissors for it.” 🌰 “Don’t get shy on me now.” 🍓 Mutual pining 🍫 Friends to lovers"

Birdie, this was so much fun to write, I hope you like it! 💖

a/n 2.0: unbeta'd, moodboard by me, edited by me. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't :)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

Your lumberjack was here again. Well he's not yours exactly, but a girl could dream.

Every morning Bucky Barnes would roll up to your small town's only general store in his big red pick up truck before work at the lumber yard. And every morning you would watch from your perch behind the counter as he'd meander through the short shelves in search of the ancient coffee maker. The coffee that machine produced could only be described as sludge, but he filled a cup to the brim every morning without fail.

You'd told him on more than one occasion that you admired his iron gut for being able to withstand it day in and day out. His usual response was that it was strong, that it put some extra hairs on his chest. Then he would puff said chest out and thump it with a closed fist and the two of you would laugh while your thighs clenched together at the thought of running your fingers through whatever amount of hair really did reside on his thick chest.

You never saw him in less than a thermal Henley or his thick fleece lined coat. Yes, even in the summer time he wore long sleeves. What hid underneath those layers was another in a long list of mysteries you wanted to unravel about the gentle giant.

Most mornings you were the only one who spoke out of the pair of you. Rambling about your weekend plans, past or future, or whatever hijinks your precious cat Turkey had gotten into the day before. But Bucky was always there, listening intently like whatever you said would be the most interesting thing he'd hear all day.

"Ms. Linda said she needed help setting up for Bingo Night at the VFW hall so of course I offered to help since her husband was so generous fixing the hole in the awning above the stoop."

Bucky poured a generous amount of creamer into his cup of sludge. He may boast about not minding the taste, but you saw how many fixings he added every morning.

"Bingo Night, huh? I could see you up there calling numbers for all those old biddies," he smirked at you as he popped the lid on. "It's a shame I can't come, maybe I could've gotten lucky."

A laugh bubbles up and out of you before you could stop it. He can't be serious. He can't be...flirting?

Bucky Barnes does a lot of things. Takes the trash out for his elderly neighbor, offers to shovel the stoop out front of the store when the weather gets rough, and drinks the garbage coffee you make every morning, among many other things. But one thing he's never done before was flirt with you.

You don't know how to respond. You've always liked the man but he's never shown any interest in return. Never taken you up on an offer to get drinks or visit the actual coffee shop in town that makes actually good coffee.

So instead, Bucky's been a good friend. A good, kind friend that had no interest in you in a sexual way. Which was fine. But that kind of talk coming from him out of the blue was baffling.

Why is he flirting with you now after all this time?

The bell above the front door jingles, pulling your attention from his eyes watching you above his styrofoam cup.

"Buck, c'mon we gotta get a move on." Bucky's friend and coworker, Sam, stands in the doorway tapping the silver watch on his wrist.

"Sammy, why're you rushing? Got a hot date?"

Sam laughs and shakes his head.

"No, ma'am. Me and 'loverboy' here have to get in this truck and get a move on. Got a delivery up north to make."

If Sam sees the shocked look on your face, he doesn't say anything about it. You're too shocked to even comment on the 'loverboy' nickname he gave to Bucky just now. Bucky never goes out on the road anymore. Not since the accident that took his arm. He doesn't talk about it much, but everyone else in town sure does. How he had been on the road too long on his own and fell asleep at the wheel. You stopped listening then, when anyone but Bucky decides they have a right to tell his story. Like somehow he died that night and his ghost haunts the lumber yard.

Sam reaches in front of Bucky and grabs the last Ooey Gooey butter cake from the stand by the register.

"Now wait a minute-"

They're Bucky's favorite, he always grabs one before he heads out in the morning.

Sam halts at the door and turns around, slowly beginning to unwrap the package.

"Rock, paper, scissors for it," Bucky practically shouts over the rustling of plastic wrap.

"Bucky, you don't have to-"

Before you can finish your sentence the cake is back on the counter and the men, boys really, are pounding their fists and chanting the words to the game. Bucky's metal fingers open to the shape of a pair of scissors while Sam's stay closed to form a rock.

"Eyyy! Better luck next time, champ." With a smile pointed your way and a, "see you in two weeks," Sam slaps two dollars on the counter and heads back to the truck parked outside.

"Damn."

Bucky looks so cute when he pouts. He'll argue and say he doesn't pout but how else would you describe the way his pink lips purse and the space between his eyebrows crinkles? He's a pouter for sure.

You tell him to wait there for a moment. You've got something better for him in the back. His eyes roam your body like he's searching for...what? You don't know. You're not sure if you want to know with the way he's biting his lip.

You make your escape to the back room just left of the counter and Bucky can't help but follow. Like if he takes his eyes off you for one moment you'll disappear.

It's dark in the storeroom, only enough sunlight to illuminate the desk and chair in the makeshift office that takes up half the space. The other half is full of boxes of snacks and other necessities waiting their turn to be stocked on shelves.

You quickly grab the box you were looking for and turn, bumping into a curious Bucky in the process and spilling half its contents onto the floor.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry, sugar."

Bucky hurriedly bends down to help you pick up the contents of the box. Did he just call you "sugar"?

"It's...fine. Thanks, Buck."

In your arms is a cardboard box full of the butter cakes that Bucky grabs every morning with his coffee.

"Is that..."

"Take them."

Bucky reels back, and that cute crease between his eyebrows returns.

"All of them?"

"Well," you shrug, "Sam said 'two weeks' right? How many do you want for two weeks?"

"Sugar, I can't take that many."

You nudge the box into his arms which he accepts reluctantly.

"If you take all of 'em you won't have to fight over them with Sam."

"He can't have any."

"Bucky!"

You laugh until you realize he's not joking. In fact, Bucky looks quite serious.

"Not if they're from you. He can't have them."

The blue of Bucky's eyes are dark, murky like the lake that sits a few miles outside of town.

You didn't think he would be so possessive over a box of sweets. Or that your kind gesture would mean so much.

"Bucky?"

The box falls to your feet, spilling packaged cakes onto the floor again. But you're not worried about picking them up this time because Bucky's suddenly on you, his hands on your face and walking you backwards and into the desk at your back. You don't even mind the pain when your butt bumps the wooden edge when you feel Bucky's lips on yours.

His stubble is prickly against your skin and he tastes like burnt caffeine but you can't get enough. The rough pads of his fingers caress your cheeks, years of hard labor imprinting on your skin through his touch. The metal of his left hand is colder than you were expecting, but only on his fingers. His palm is warmed slightly from holding his coffee, a meek simulation of the warmth pouring off his right.

You don't think you'll ever forget how he lights up your senses. How he sounds when you slip your tongue past his lips to curl around his. How he shivers when you run your hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck where his hair is short and bristly under your fingernails.

Suddenly you're being lifted, placed on the desk behind you with a gentle thud.

"You don't know what you do to me, sugar. So damn sweet."

His hands are on your waist now, his fingers digging into the dips of your curves to pull you closer so he can nip and lick at your neck, your jaw. He's starving for you and all you can do is roll your head back to give him space to feast.

"I should've given you that box sooner."

Bucky's breathy chuckle blows past your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. Your gasp spurs him on, moving to lift your baggy work t-shirt up before you stop him.

"Everything okay? Don't get shy on me now."

You run your hands across his shoulders marveling at how massive he is, how small he makes you feel. How safe. But you're unsure and Bucky can tell.

"I've wanted you for so long, sugar, just thought you could do better than someone like me."

His shoulders shrug under your palms. You want him too, so badly.

"Bucky that's not -"

"I know, I know it's silly. But I've been seeing someone. A therapist," he rushes to clarify when you raise an eyebrow at him. "She said I deserve things that make me happy. That what happened to me doesn't mean that I'm too broken to be happy."

Bucky leans into your hand on his cheek as he speaks. His eyes are searching yours and you hope he can see the love you hold for him there. And you do, you love him. As much as you can from seeing him every damn day for the past two years. He's grown so much since he came back home after the accident and you're hoping you're on his list of things that make him happy.

"You do deserve those things, Bucky."

His fingers trace a pattern you can't decipher under your shirt.

"Do you know why I come in here every morning?"

"Is it not for the coffee?"

"To see you."

He presses a kiss into your palm.

"I see you and the rest of my day is sweeter for it, sugar. The only thing better would be seeing your pretty head on the pillow next to mine when I open my eyes every morning."

You'd damn near slide off the table if Bucky didn't have a hold on you.

"Now, I want to feel you before I'm gone and losing my mind in that cab with Sam for two weeks. Will you let me, sugar?"

"Yes. Please, Bucky."

Your shirt is on the floor by the time you're finished speaking and Bucky's ripping your leggings down. It's good you have a spare pair of sweatpants in your locker just in case because they're definitely ruined.

You don't care if you have to work naked if Bucky's keeps mouthing at your chest the way he is now. The delicious burn of his stubble offset by the hot, wet suction of his mouth around your nipple is driving you insane. Your hands tug at his cropped hair, your body shaking with the force of your need for him.

"Bucky, please. T-touch me."

He doesn't waste any time teasing, just pushes your ample thighs open and presses a finger to your weeping slit. You cry out, grinding against his finger as he marvels at how wet you are already.

"All this cream for me, sugar?"

"Fuck, yes Bucky. It's yours."

He kisses you, stealing the moan that pours from you when he sinks his fingers past the lace covering your pussy.

Bucky groans, pulling away from your mouth to stare down at your puffy lips. His fingers circle your hole and he can feel you clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill you. But not yet.

Instead he slides his two fingers up and circles the swollen bud of your clit. The pressure and the wet sound it makes has you writhing on the desk, clawing at Bucky's arm as he works you over.

"That's it, sugar. My fingers feel good?"

"Yes," you can't help but shout.

Belatedly, you realize that the front door of the store isn't locked and anyone could walk in and hear, or even see, the two of you like this. It should make you push Bucky away and straighten yourself so you don't startle some poor shopper but if anything it makes your gut curl tighter. More of your juices spill and you don't hold back your cries of pleasure.

"So loud, sugar. What if someone saw you like this, huh? Coming so pretty for me, making a mess all over this desk."

Bucky shoves his two fingers inside you and you cry out even louder. Gripping the desk beneath you for dear life as he pumps into you hard and fast, finding that spot deep inside you that you could never reach. He curls his long, thick fingers into it and your eyes roll back.

"Listen to how wet you are. Give me what I need, sugar. Come for me."

Bucky's fingers pump into you two more times before you're screaming, pulsing around his digits until you can't move anymore.

You watch as Bucky slides his fingers free and into his mouth, sucking up your juices like the most delicious candy treat he's ever had.

His light touch makes you jump when you feel him slide your panties back in place.

"What about- "

"When I get back. Can't leave Sam waiting for me out there longer than I have. I already get enough of his teasing over you." Bucky smirks and tugs on an exposed nipple.

"Hey! That's not my fault!" You laugh and smack his chest.

Bucky laughs and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm and placing it over his heart.

"I have to leave, sugar."

"Come back to be, Bucky. I'm not done with you."

You're smiling but there's worry in your eyes.

"I'm not done with you either," Bucky winks. "And I'll be alright. Sam will be with me. He's a pain in the ass but I trust him with my life."

You sigh and lean into his chest, soaking up as much of his warmth and his scent before he has to leave.

"I'll call you. Every morning no matter where I am on the road. I'll call and we can talk while I eat my favorite breakfast," you smile when he points to the discarded box on the floor.

"Sounds wonderful, Buck," you press a kiss to his pec right above his heart. "And if you get lonely at night in those dusty, old motel rooms you can call me too."

He scoffs and smiles at your cheeky grin.

"Jesus, maybe my sugar ain't as sweet as I thought she was."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fan fic #plus size fic #plus size!reader #plus size reader #bucky fic #bucky smut #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #my fics #BirthdayBashWritingChallenge #running away before i hate it #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes headcannon #bucky one shot #bucky headcannon

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday ✏️

thanks for the tags @loserdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples 💖

This was probably better for WIP Wednesday but I chickened out. Said something to Tanis about not being sure how I felt about putting it up here and got (lovingly) bullied into posting. Bon appetit 🫣

WIP sketch of Lucy Donato

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @actuallyitsellie @apothecarose @buddierights @chaosandwolves @elvensorceress @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @jesuisici33 @lemonzestywrites @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend and anyone else who wants to 😘

#fuck it friday #hippo makes things #lucy donato #my sketch #not words today #ngl i limited the audience this round #because the word of the day is i n s e c u r e #also #if you made it this far #i have a name for the mirrorball fic!!!!! #yay me #also sorry not sorry i’m in my lucy feels #k i'm gonna run away now

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks @firenati0n for the tag!

So, this is NOT introspective rimming. You'd be forgiven for being confused, though, as it's yet another fic that was supposed to be a very quickly smashed out PWP specifically so I could shake the cobwebs in my writing brain loose, and is now being bogged down by Henry being Way. Too. In. His. Fucking. Head. (Let's not examine this recent trend too closely lmaoooo thisisfine.gif)

He mutters something that he intends to be an apology, though given the way his brain is firing off on all cylinders it’s equally likely to be an errant line of Byron or a half-remembered Taylor Swift lyric, as he shuts the door before fleeing to his room where he can bury his face in his hands in peace.  Alex had pulled away at the sound of the door opening, is the thing. He’d looked up at Henry with wide eyes and spit-slick, swollen lips, and Henry knows intrinsically that he will never be rid of that mental image. He’ll take it into the shower later, into bed tonight, into the rest of his natural life; if he hits his head tomorrow and winds up with some medically implausible form of amnesia, the key to unlocking his identity will be the enduring memory of a beautiful mystery man and his perfect, cock-sucking mouth.  Because Alex was—Christ, he was— “H?” There’s a sharp rap on his door; Alex’s voice, muffled but undeniably shaky, continuing after it. “Can I come in?”

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#wip wednesday #kiwiana-writes #fic: none of my love will go to waste #one day I will untangle the hellscape that is my brain but today is not that day!!! #but I DIDN'T raze my digital footprint to the ground and run away to live in the forest #so you should all be very proud lol

[grishaverse-chaos]

hmmm something about dominik haunting the narrative in king of scars. everything nikolai does is at least a little bit for him. he learns about the life of average ravkan people by meeting dominik's family. he starts gaining influence in politics just so he can improve dominik's life. and then he promises dominik that he won't let ravka break him.

that promise fucking haunts him. it follows him wherever he goes. it's the driving force behind everything he does, every step he takes to heal the centuries-old wounds in ravka. it's what drives him to do better, be better.

dominik is always there, in the back of his mind: this country gets you in the end. always pushing him to do more, because he couldn't save dominik and so he has to save ravka (for dominik) (because he promised) (because he loved him)

#my spicy hot take is that nikolai's relationship with dominik actually affects the narrative of the duology more than - #- his relationship with zoya does #you could argue that *none* of the events of the duology would have happened without dominik's influence #and honestly zoyalai as a relationship doesn't really affect the narrative/plotline all that much #which is One of the problems i have with it being endgame #anyway yes i am writing an angsty nikolai backstory fic why do you ask? #it's mostly about how he reinvents himself at every minor inconvenience (but also how incredibly fucked up his childhood was) #and if i have the energy it might turn into a rewrite of the ending of rule of wolves #bc him giving up the throne just plays into that pattern of running away #so honestly i think it's not a great ending in terms of his arc and character development #this may just be a me thing idk but i just feel like he doesn't actually get that much development in the duology #bc there's this idea of him as being Perfect and Invulnerable and Not Affected By His Trauma #which. is not the case. #it's all very dear reader (taylor swift) imo #ANYWAY #mayhem.txt #mayhem grishaverse originals #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #king of scars #grishaverse